


If it Kills Me

by hakanaii



Series: If it Kills me (verse) [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakanaii/pseuds/hakanaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He will find exactly who he needs. When he finally does, she is in last place he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just for Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my good friend and amazingly, spectacular beta jeniezee. Inspiration derives from Jason Mraz' 'If it Kills Me'.

 

* * *

 

 

The last wedding Peeta attended was that of his childhood friend, Delly Cartwright, two autumns ago. The ceremony and reception was small as they were held in the backyard of her townhouse. Peeta offered the accomdations of the grounds and ballroom of his hotel, Snow’d Inn. She and Thom, however, insisted on something more cozy and intimate.

  
The quiet, peaceful enchantment of Delly’s wedding contrasts with Madge Undersee’s exuberant one. She pulled out all the stops to make her special day as beautiful and grand as possible. Being responsible for overseeing wedding preparations, Peeta wants rip out each strand of his curly hair. He grows very tired of hearing Fulvia Curdew’s hummingbird voice and the click of her stilettos on the tiles.

  
If the idea of making a woman his own blushing bride had not been so appealing, Peeta would not even consider wanting to go through this ordeal for himself. But seeing the way Madge twirls on her blue, polka-dotted heels as Gale waltzes her around the dance floor while they gaze up at each other with matching smiles, Peeta knows he wants that too.

  
“We had to go to five boutiques just to look for a dress,” Katniss complains into his ear. “Two hours in each store. When Cinna agreed to make her a gown, I nearly cried.”

  
“You’re being overdramatic, Kat,” Peeta rolls his eyes as he swirls the white wine in his glass. “Madge trusts your opinion, you should have been honoured to go.”

  
“I suppose,” Katniss wrinkles her nose as she downs the last of her glass of red wine. “She let me pick out the colour of the bridesmaids and flower girl dresses.”

 

Arching his eyebrow Peeta looks at her, suppressing a grin. “She let you pick the colour? Really?”

 

“Well, okay. I said I liked brown and green. She said everyone would look too earthy so Cinna pulled out a bunch of swatches and she fell in love with this platinum blue and well … you’re looking at the rest.”

 

 

Peeta chuckles, “That sounds more like it.”

 

“Shut up,” she spits, punching him in the arm.

 

“If it makes you feel better, platinum really compliments you,” Peeta responds with a smile. “It makes you look less boring.”

 

“Wow, thanks Mellark. Now tell me how you really feel,” Katniss rolls her eyes as she pours herself another glass.

 

“Anytime,” he smirks, dipping his own empty glass towards her for her to refill. Reluctantly, with a dramatic sigh, she grants his request.

 

Peeta may not be a fan of red wine, but, right now, he welcomes its effects. Watching couples sway to the slow filtering through the speakers made his heart sink into his stomach.

 

“Hey Peeta, Leevy’s looking at you,” Katniss draws him out of his thoughts and directs his gaze over to her cousin. “I think she wants to dance.”

 

“In front of your whole family?” Peeta mumbles, his face growing warm.

 

“It’s just a dance, it’s not like you two are going to get married or anything. Nothing like those two,” Katniss nods over to the bride and groom. Madge is Peeta’s friend from college but she met Gale through Katniss.

 

Several years ago, Katniss had decided to host a housewarming party at her and Peeta’s apartment. Seeing as they both needed to be closer to the center of town and with rent being excruciatingly high for one person to pay on their own, they decided to live under one roof. The gathering was small, with good music and plenty of beer. They were having a good time, catching up when Gale Hawthorne, Katniss’ closest cousin, walks in the door forty-five minutes late. Peeta did not remember seeing Madge take notice of Gale, all he remembered was her excusing herself to the kitchen to grab another drink almost immediately after he slid through the doorway. The rest is history.

 

“I know that but …” he mumbles, looking up and catching Leevy’s gray eyes before looking back down at his hands. “I’d rather not draw attention to myself. Tonight is about them and all your family will be doing islooking at me.”

 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Katniss sighs. “You can’t be living the bachelor life forever. Tortoise Mellark needs to come out of his shell and talk to a woman other than Madge or Delly for five minutes or else he’s never going to find that special girl to have those kids with.”

  
Peeta can feel the muscles in his face grow tight and his lip turn up in contempt. “If this is payback about the boring comment you chose a particularly nasty scab to pick, didn’t you?”

 

“That has nothing to do with this,” Katniss explains softly, brushing back a few fly away curls. “I’m worried about you. I want you to be happy.”

 

“I’m quite happy with the way things are now,” he retorts with a white lie. “I am roommates with my best friend, I have a decent job with decent pay and I have wonderful friends and family. As much as I’d like to have someone to call my own, I don’t mind waiting. She’s getting to me as fast as she can.”

 

Offering him a weak smile, “Probably,” Katniss kisses his forehead. “It’s getting late, I better get going. Cinna wants me in at 9 o’clock tomorrow. I have photos to print, paper work to file, phones to answer.”

  
Peeta smiles gently as he stands up with Katniss. The cocktail style of the dress accentuates all the curves of her slim frame. With her hair styled up into a braided bun, the silvery-blue of the dress brings out the gray in her boldly painted eyes; he cannot deny how beautiful she looks. The girl he grew up with, the one that wore khaki pants and moss green t-shirts does not appear to exist anymore. As much as Peeta loves the rough and tumble Katniss, he likes this side of her too. She really does look more animated in silvery-blue, it really brings out the gray in her eyes.

 

“Where are you off to, Catnip? Don’t tell me you’re cutting out before we do,” Gale’s voice booms across the banquet hall, while making his way towards them, with Madge trailing behind him.

 

“I’ve got an early day tomorrow. Cinna isn’t cutting me any slack,” Katniss smiles, uncomfortably, shifting on her three inch open toe heels.

 

“But you’re part of the wedding party, Katniss.” Madge’s pink, glossy lip pouts. “I haven’t thrown the bouquet yet.”

  
Katniss frowns, “I don’t need some tradition telling me whether or not I’m next. I’ll get married to who I want, when I want .”

 

“Wow, Catnip, It’s just a game, no one’s making you do anything,” Gale contests, throwing his hands up in defense. “It’d be pretty interesting though if you did catch it and then got hitched to… oh I don’t know… Peeta?”

 

Peeta watches the way Katniss’ face drenches in a cherry red. Those quick hands of hers swat at Gale, chasing after him as he bolts across the ballroom laughing. Madge cracks a smile of her own.

 

“It’s so nice to see that they still get along,” Madge sighs, watching Katniss launch herself onto Gale’s back and tugging on his hair. She is going to ruin that dress and Cinna is going to have her head for it. “I was worried that I might drive a wedge between them.”

 

Peeta snorts, “In all the years I’ve known Katniss, I’ve never seen her get possessive. She likes you, though. She’s told me plenty of times that you’re a good fit for Gale. Personally, I think he’s a better fit for you than Finnick.”

 

Madge’s smile drops slightly as she wrings her pianist hands around themselves. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “I-I invited him y’know. I asked Gale, and he said it was okay. He was even kind of excited to meet him too,” her voice drops lower as it begins to shake. “But he hasn’t showed up yet. It’s not like Finnick to miss out on something this important.”

  
Peeta wants to console her, tell her everything is alright and that the man, who is one of her best friends, is on his way right now and will walk through those doors any minute.

 

 

But he does not wish to lie to his friend.

 

 

After college, Peeta knew their friend had taken up work as a model to pay his student loans while he looked for a steady job. However, it did not take long before the part-time job became full time and every big name advertiser wanted Finnick Odair to be the face of their product. The hours he worked became longer and Finnick began to spend less and less time in the city of Panem. It does not come as much of surprise to Peeta that he cannot keep this promise.

 

“I bet that bimbo he’s dating has something to do with this,” Madge spits, clenching her hands together. “She probably guilt tripped him into not coming because I didn’t put her on the guest list.”

 

Sighing, Peeta pulls the bride into his embrace, “You’re worrying far too much, Madge. Just sit back and enjoy the rest of the night. I’ll give Finnick a call later and see where he was, I’m sure he is just  at work and it’s nothing serious. I’ll let you know what I find out, okay?”

 

He can feel Madge’s head nod in the crook of his shoulder.

 

“Good,” he responds with a smile. “Now go steal your husband back from Katniss before she gets too comfortable.” Giggling, Madge pulls herself out of Peeta’s hold and kisses his cheek before gliding towards her husband. The moment she reaches him, all her previous worries fade and a genuine, giddy smile spreads across her face.

 

Falling into the pulled out chair with a slump, Peeta finishes the rest of the wine in his glass. Weddings are supposed to be happy, so why does he feel so depressed?

 

Placing the empty glass down on the table, he gets up and walks out of the ballroom just as Madge flings the bouquet behind her. He chuckles as he hears Katniss scream “those posies are mine, bitch!”

 

Outside in the grand entrance of the hotel, all is quiet. The phones do not ring, idle chatter between his coworkers cannot be heard and Cray’s squeaky janitorial cart has not made its rounds in the lobby yet. This is Peeta’s favourite part of the day, where tranquility sets in and he can hear himself think.

 

“Hey, Mellark, you piss drunk yet?” a voice chimes in his ear as he feels a weight on his back. Of course Johanna Mason would be the one to ruin his moment.

 

“No,” he groans, as he peels her arms off from around his shoulders. “Only had two glasses.”

 

“Seriously? That’s it? You should be plastered and be in bed with a bridesmaid by now or something,” she croons as she bounces on the balls of her feet. Peeta rolls his eyes. Johanna is not one for censoring her thoughts.

 

“If it makes you feel better, I will be in my bed beside one of them tonight.”

 

“Everdeen doesn’t count, but nice try,” she pinches his cheek with a grin. Peeta side eyes her. He has never seen Johanna show off her straightened teeth so much before.

 

“Mason, there something you want?” Peeta inquires with a slowly rising intonation. Her face falls as she steps away from him.

 

“Alright, you caught me. I need a favour,” she says, shuffling slightly. “Can you switch shifts with me tomorrow? I’ve got… a thing first thing in the morning. I’ll let Haymitch know you covered for me so he can adjust the pay roll.”

 

“Fine, but you owe me more than just some extra cash,” he grumbles.

 

“Yeah yeah, let me know when you think of something. Thanks, Mellark,” Johanna offers him another smile and a pat on the back. She scurries off behind the desk before Haymitch Abernathy, their manager, can catch her slacking again.

 

He keeps threatening to fire her, but he never does. Rumour has it he has a soft spot for her, but Peeta will neither confirm nor deny such a thing. He knows Haymitch’s feelings for Johanna run far deeper than just a soft spot.

 

Taking in a deep breath, Peeta checks his watch before heading back into the reception. Ten-thirty right on the dot. Where had the time gone? With his newly booked schedule for tomorrow, he knows it is time to saygoodnight.

 

Manoeuvring his way through the empty chairs and the dancing couples to the sweetheart table, Peeta offers Gale and Madge his best wishes once more before grabbing Katniss and dragging her out of the ballroom with him.

 

She trips over her stumbling feet before landing in his car with a thud. The drive home is anything but silent, but Peeta does not mind. Katniss’ usual venue for her solos consist of the shower and her bedroom with the door closed, but tonight she sings loudly and without shame in the comfort of his car. Since she was a child, Peeta always thought she had a beautiful voice and once upon a time he had encouraged her to pursue a career in music. But Katniss’ modesty and stage fright has kept her from it.

 

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it?” Katniss says, her smile gleaming as she zigzags into their apartment building. “I’m really happy for them.”

 

“It’s about time they settled down,” Peeta smiles back, his hand secure around her waist as he guides her into the right direction. Pulling his key card out of his wallet he swipes it and the door clicks open.

 

They take the elevator up, when it reaches their floor Katniss jumps up and down like a child, hoping to make it stop. Suppressing his chuckle, Peeta leads Katniss out of the carrel only to stop three steps later.

  
Peeta can feel his stomach flip as his heart squeezes, beating quickly against his chest. He wants to unlatch himself from Katniss and run down the hallway to their apartment, but Peeta cannot get his feet to move.

 

Outside their doorway, dressed in a rumpled, black suit and black socks sits Finnick Odair. From a distance, Peeta cannot determine as to why one hand is resting on his friend’s face. He assumes it is from fatigue but dread plagues Peeta as scenario after scenario filter through his head.

 

Pushing through his catatonic state, Peeta makes his way across the carpeted surface one foot at a time.

 

“Finnick,” he calls, his voice shaking. The man’s bronze head whips to the side, relief washing over the uncovered part this face. Making his way closer, he can see the model’s relief begin to vanish as agonizing pain shines through the tears in his eyes.

 

The hand that covers his face is gripping an icepack, which does not conceal nearly enough. The exposed areas allow Peeta to see the deep, purple bruising under Finnick’s right eye. Letting go of Katniss, he kneels down to the floor in front of his friend. Nudging away the icepack with his fingers, Finnick lets Peeta look at the entirety of the damage his face sustained.

 

The swollen, red and purple cartilage nearly makes him gag. Swallowing his discomfort, he takes some relief in knowing there is a splint across the arch.

 

Peeta does not know how, but even in a time like this, where tears are rushing down his face, Finnick is smiling that goofy grin.

 

“Hey, Peet, how was the wedding? Did she look beautiful?”

 

Peeta nods, his vocal chords constricted too tightly together to make a sound.

 

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Finnick apologies, his smile dropping. “Was in the hospital all afternoon. They would’ve been pissed if I walked in halfway looking like I came out of a car accident.”

 

“What happened then?” Peeta raises a brow.

  
Pushing himself up the wall with his shoes in his hand, Finnick smiles wearily with a shrug, “Shouldn’t have gone back for the gravy boat.”

 

Peeta frowns, he really does not like when Finnick gets cryptic. However, he only gets cryptic when the severity of the situation is bad. Finnick may be bad with promises, but he is excellent with secrets. Though, bytheir fourth year of college, Peeta has discovered ways of getting him to open up.

 

“So, do you mind if I crash on your couch,” Finnick requests, trying to widen his green eyes but wincing when he tries to move the muscles in his face. Taking his keys out of his pocket, Peeta unlocks the door and steps aside allowing Finnick to walk in first.

 

“I owe you big time, man,” he says, pulling Peeta into a tight hug.

 

“Won’t be the first time,” he mumbles. Katniss trudges into the apartment next, giving Peeta a strange look only to have him shrug it off and push her into their home.

 

“Not to be rude or anything, but how’d you get up here?” Katniss asks wrinkling her nose at their guest who has makes himself at home on their couch.

 

“Hm? Oh. Your new neighbour let me in,” Finnick chimes from where he lays length wise with his head propped up on the armrest. “I didn’t catch her name but she’s really sweet and incredibly pretty, even lent me the ice pack I’m using.”

 

“Been here five minutes and you’re already conning women out of their belongings with your sob stories,” Peeta remarks snidely. The storm brewing in Finnick’s eyes make him instantly want to retract it.

 

“I fully intended for you to find her and give it back to her,” he counters, shooting up into a sitting position only to shout out in excruciating pain.

 

Peeta rolls his eyes, “Calm down. I’ll get you a pair of sleep pants, a few pillows and a blanket. Katniss make sure he doesn’t move.”

 

“Aye aye capt’n,” she salutes with a smile. Peeta shakes his head as a smile cracks across his face as well. He had completely forgotten about the new neighbour in the midst of all the wedding preparations. Old Man Woof on the fourth floor had passed away a few months ago and his kids were left with cleaning and selling the apartment. Peeta did not realize they had finally sold the place.

 

  
He can feel his heart beat a little quicker as his mind begins to wander about  who this woman might be. If she’s willing to help some guy she does not even know, maybe she could be the nice, homely girl he longs for. Peeta cannot wait to meet her.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	2. The Cumin to my Salt and Pepper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge, enormous thank you to my amazing, irreplaceable beta jeniezee. Also, thank you to marblesharp who is the master mind behind getting my creativity in gear. Thank you to all those who've waited patiently for this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!

 

* * *

 

 

At the age of thirteen, Peeta began his first summer job in his family’s bakery. His eldest brother, Graham, would wake him up at the crack of dawn to start baking the breads and pastries for the day.

 

Even though Graham is the muscle of the three Mellark boys, he had an eye for detail. Unlike Peeta’s second eldest brother, Rye, who was much better at using his brute force to knead the dough. Being the youngest member on the high school wrestling team helped.

 

Every morning of every summer, even when Peeta came home from college, he worked in the bakery. He never regretted being taught the value of hard work or the hours he had to put into any job at an early age. From when moment Peeta moved out of his parents’ home on the outskirts of town and into the downtown core of Panem, he was able to put his skills to good use.

 

Working in Hospitality Management means Peeta is required to get up at the crack of dawn or stay late at night until early in the morning. Most of the time he chooses to work the night shift. He quickly learns how much different the early morning pace of a hotel is in comparison to than that of bakery. He discovers how much he would rather sit around calculating revenue and doing accounting business all evening than answer phones, make reservations or listen to guests complain about the inefficiency of service.

 

Despite his feelings towards Johanna’s morning shift, Peeta can not say no to her. She rarely asks for anything. Whether it be an extra break or a cup of coffee in the morning, she holds her own and tends anything she needs herself. So whatever it is that ‘thing’ that Johanna has to do, he gladly hops out of bed at five-thirty in the morning so she can go do it.

 

Light peaks through the slated blinds of Peeta’s window as he walks through his open concept living room. Shuffling around, his eyes adjust slowly to the streaks of  light as he makes his way towards the kitchen. Starting a particularly long day without a cup of coffee is guaranteed to make it a bad one.

 

“Can you put two creams and two sugars in mine?” Finnick’s rough voice startles him. Whipping his head around, Peeta finds his friend lying on the couch fully awake with some ice cubes wrapped in paper towel resting on his nose. “Morning,” he smiles apologetically.

 

“Morning,” Peeta says softly. “Sleep well?”

 

Sitting upright, Finnick lolls his head against the back of the sofa. “Didn’t sleep.”

 

“Are you still in a lot of pain?”

 

“I took a Tylenol 3 before you went to bed.”

 

“Couldn’t shut your mind off?” Peeta inquires with a smile, over the sounds of the coffee-maker.

 

Finnick remains silent until he hears Peeta pour the coffee into the mugs. “Actually, make that three sugars and two creams.”

 

Peeta obliges with a sigh. Stirring in the extra spoonful of sugar, he makes his way back to the living room which is now filled with idle chatter from the morning news.

 

“Your neighbour’s ice pack is in the freezer,” Finnick says, taking his first sip.

 

Peeta nods while rubbing the sides of his steaming ceramic mug. “I probably won’t get it back to her until I come home.”

 

“No rush,” Finnick yawns through a tired smile.

 

“There is some Melatonin in the cabinet by the stove and my bed is available for the next fifteen hours. You’re welcome to crash in it, if you’d like.” Peeta offers, finishing his cooling cup of bitter coffee. The joy that washes over Finnick’s face rivals that of a child’s.

 

“Thank god! This couch is not meant to be slept on by people over five feet tall,” Finnick gripes.

 

“I’ve been trying to get Katniss to look at buying a new sofa for a while now but she makes a run for it anytime I suggest any form of shopping,” Peeta smiles as his friend chuckles softly.

 

Finnick chuckles from behind his cup, “She’s unique, isn’t she?”

 

“No one is quite like Katniss Everdeen,” Peeta laughs.

 

“Y’know, I wouldn’t mind going out and buying a couch for you,” Finnick offers, getting up to put his empty mug in the sink while grabbing an icepack from the freezer.

 

“Seriously?” Peeta’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “That’d be great, I can pay you back.”

 

“No worries,” he shrugs, flopping back down onto the couch. “I’ll write it off as expenses. God knows I need the couch anyhow.”

 

Peeta watches as Finnick’s eyes take on a distant look and his easy-going smile slips from his face. Unravelling the twine around his wrist, his fingers quickly make intricate knots, subconsciously. Old habits die hard.

 

Back in college, Finnick could not be seen without those pieces of string. Tugging at them during exams, they would ground him instantly. At one point during their student careers, Finnick had accumulated so much twine that Madge would joke how it resembled a bird’s nest. Adding decorative elements to the strings, he began to call her Magpie. A nickname she carries with her even now but reserves only for him.   

 

“Madge was worried about you last night,” Peeta says softly. “You should give her a call; tell her you’re okay.” Finnick’s green eyes snap away from their gaze on the wall and turns towards Peeta, pointedly.   

 

Silence thickens between them as Caesar Flickerman’s laughter pours through the television, “Well isn’t that something huh? The time is now 6:10; Claudius Templesmith will be right up with the forecast for the day.”

 

Finnick’s composure relaxes as a mask of a false smile conceals the simmering fury on his face.  “Better get dressed, Peeta; you don’t want to be late.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Wedging himself through the backdoor, Peeta makes it with five minutes to spare. Placing his belongings in his locker, he retrieves his black vest and punches in at exactly seven o’clock. Inhaling deeply, he embraces the few moments of silence before pushing open the backroom door and stepping out behind the desk.

 

“Cutting it close there, aren’t you, Mellark?” Cato points out, tapping the face of his watch obnoxiously. “I know you were just put on the schedule last night but that’s not a good enough excuse.”

 

Peeta offers his co-worker his best smile before an apology tumbles out of his mouth. He takes his place next to Gwen, who prefers to be called Glimmer. To indulge the stuck up ‘Career’, Haymitch etched her ridiculous nickname into her metal name tag. She claims it to be a conversation starter, but Peeta secretly keeps a tally of how uncomfortable it makes the guests feel once they read it.

 

“Cato, you’re not in charge,” Clove reminds him sternly as she scrolls through the names of the day’s check out list. “If Peeta shows up a minute late or three hours late, it’s really none of your business so lay off.”

 

Of all those who have dedicated themselves to the profession of hotel services, or  the ‘Careers’, Clove is by far Peeta’s favourite. The petite woman can make anyone come undone with the sharpness of her eyes and the crispness of her words. To his benefit, she always takes his side when Cato starts giving him flack.

 

“Cato should be in charge though. He’d do a much better job of running things than that slack, Haymitch,” Glimmer huffs. “Who isn’t even here, by the way! He should have gotten fired years ago, that drunken fool.”

 

“I bet you twenty bucks he’s passed out in a ditch somewhere,” Cato smirks while dialing the room numbers that requested wake up calls.

 

“Or he’s in bed with that butch bitch. That’s probably why she called Peeta in,” Glimmer giggles obnoxiously, as she organizes the pamphlets in the foyer. Peeta does not realize he is clenching the phone receiver in his hand until Clove pats the top of it lightly, offering him a reassuring smile.

 

Facing towards their cackling co-workers, Clove clears her throat, “You assholes are being incredibly unprofessional and disrespectful!” she yells, startling them. “For someone who wants a promotion, if you keep acting like a jackass, you’ll never get one, Cato.”

 

Peeta watches as Cato’s widened blue eyes dilate to their normal size. Turning away from Clove, he goes back to work. For the rest of the shift, his mouth stays shut except when speaking with a customer.

 

In silent thanks, Peeta sticks close to Clove the rest of the day, giving her a hand when a large guest, about the size of their night manager Chaff, starts yelling at her about the disappearance of his little sister, Rue.

 

“I leave her here for five minutes so I can grab our bags and she’s gone!” the man’s voice booms, while he clutches onto a paper weight as if ready to smash it into her temple, making an already skittish Clove jump. “If something happened to her, so help me God, I will sue you and this hotel for all it’s worth.”

 

Shaking like a leaf, Clove remains silent as her finger writes the same word over and over into the palm of her hidden hands. C-A-T-O, Peeta manages to read the third time she writes it. Scanning the room for their co-worker, he is nowhere in sight.

 

“Sir, please calm down. I’m sure she is fine,” Peeta interjects with his best smile. “If you would like, my associate and I will help you look for her?” He can feel Clove relax instantly as the large man approves the request.

 

It does not take long for them to find the young girl. As soon as Peeta and Rue come back into the lobby from the breakfast nook, she immediately runs up to the large man.

 

“I’m sorry, Thresh,” Rue apologizes to her brother, “I just went to the washroom. I didn’t mean to worry you.” While the man is holding onto his sister, Peeta and Clove exchange exhausted smiles.

 

“Already to go then?” Peeta asks as he slips back behind the counter. Thresh nods sheepishly as he pays his bill and offers numerous apologies for his irrational behaviour. Letting the incident roll off his back, Peeta gives the man a voucher for a ten percent off the next time they stay at a Snow’d Inn location.

 

“Thanks,” Clove says softly, looking up from her lunch at Peeta across the break room table, “You really saved my life back there.”

 

Peeta shrugs, “You look out for me and I look out for you.”

 

Clove flashes him a rare smile that holds genuine admiration. He can feel his heart beat quicken as she reaches across the table and places her hand on top of his. Looking up from where she touches him, he notices how her chocolate brown French braid frames her face the same way Katniss’ braid frames hers.

 

“After work, do you wanna go for coffee,” Clove offers, holding onto his hand tighter. The thumping of his heart begins to sound in his ears, making it hard to think. What if this coffee date leads to another? As much as Peeta is not fond of certain regulations, he does not want to get fired over disobeying them. Especially for something as easily avoided as dating a co-worker.

 

“Tortoise Mellark needs to come out of his shell and talk to a woman other than Madge or Delly for five minute,” Katniss’ words ring louder than the thumping. One outing couldn’t hurt, right?

 

But in the moment Peeta takes to think of his answer Cato bound into the room, shoving him as far away from Clove as possible.

 

“What the fuck, Mellark!” Cato shouts right into his face. “Clove and I have one fucking fight and you’re already trying to weasel your way into being her rebound?!”

 

“Cato,” she shrieks, looping her arms around his burly chest while trying to pull him back. “You need to calm down! I told you if we were going to make this work you had to keep your anger in check!” Taking his gaze off of Peeta, he looks back at the woman behind him, rage and hurt in his eyes, and suddenly it all makes sense.

 

Peeta wished he truly were a tortoise with a shell at a time like this. It would shield him from the wave of embarrassment engulfing him right now.

 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he stammers, drawing the couple’s attention back to him.

 

“Please don’t tell anyone, Peeta,” she pleads. The desperate look in her eyes makes him want to rip his insides out. The petite woman who he thought to be on his side is just as manipulative as the rest of the Careers in this business. The last thing he wants to do is keep her secret, but turning them in would haunt him more.

 

“Alright,” he says, passing by Cato and Clove, who sigh in relief, as he walks out back behind the desk. Pushing his ill-feelings deep down, Peeta takes a look at the clock. Only noon.

 

He really does not like working mornings.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It takes three more hours, two rotations of guests and another notch added to Peeta’s tally before Haymitch walks into work. His curly, dark hair is pulled into a tuft of a ponytail, his black suit is wrinkle free and he smells of cologne rather than white liquor.

 

“Afternoon,” Peeta greets his boss with a smile, who scowls in return.

 

“You’re chirpy,” Haymitch says, glancing over the guest list for the day. “The day went terrible, didn’t it?”

 

“There is a reason I like working evenings,” Peeta continues to smile even though he can feel his cheeks start to hurt.

 

“Well, good news is I’m scheduling you outta morning shifts for the rest of the month,” Haymitch announces while going through the list of reservations for the next few weeks.

 

“How generous of you,” Peeta remarks. “This Johanna’s way of repaying me?”

 

Haymitch looks up, gray eyes staring at him hard as they narrow. “No. I’m clearing my slate with you. Don’t go confusing your debts, boy.”

 

Peeta blinks back at his boss, stunned and ashamed. “Sorry.”

 

Haymitch acknowledges the apology with a noncommittal grunt. “I hate the summer,” he proclaims flatly.

 

Peeta smiles, “So I’ve heard.”

 

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he states, slamming the leather bound book shut. “We’re significantly understaffed this year, so you front desk kids are going to have get your hands dirty.”  

 

“Oh, that’ll be fun,” Peeta rolls his eyes. “Glimmer’s going to have a fit cleaning the toilets.”

 

“Not looking forward to it,” Haymitch grumbles.

 

“So, are you going to take a day off to enjoy the festivities this year?”

 

Haymitch grimaces, “I’m not keen on seeing a bunch of kids parade down the city streets in ridiculous costumes re-enacting the creation of Panem.”

 

Peeta frowns.

 

“The summer festival is not all about the history,” he sighs. “There are food booths, too. I heard Greasy Sae’s re-opening her stand this year,” he points out, taking off his vest as the evening shift workers come in. They greet him with a smile and a pat on the back.

 

“Sae’s back?!” Johanna calls out loudly coming up behind them with half of her vest flapping off of her. “Okay, Abernathy, we’re going. No ifs, ands or buts this time. That woman really knows how to make a stew and I’ll be damned if you don’t try some of it.”

 

Peeta bursts into a fit of laughter as he dips into the backroom to grab his belongs and clocks out before Haymitch revokes his earlier gesture.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Peeta gets home, the place is empty.

 

Calling out for both Finnick and Katniss, neither one answers back. After double Double checking the bedrooms, Peeta  is sure he has the apartment completely to himself.

 

Changing out of his work clothes, Peeta shimmings into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

He makes his way to the kitchen and opens the fridge to find only beer and cheese inside. Sighing, he takes the shopping list off the freezer door. He picks his keys and wallet out from the bowl by the front door and heads out to grab groceries.

 

He loves living with Katniss; her company is that breath of fresh air he needs after a long day. Usually, if she is home, she would let him talk about his day with open ears and then give him a back rub to relax him.

 

Peeta has always been grateful to have Katniss in his life, even when he was a kid and would get picked on for liking art more than sports. She would stand up for him and threaten the bullies even if it meant she got detention. She has always been there for him, even when her own life was turned upside down.

 

Losing her Dad at seventeen had been tough on her and her family. Katniss was a disaster for weeks afterwards. Barely passing her finals and scoring low on her SATs, she received rejection letters from all the colleges she applied to leaving her without plans for the future.

 

During that very last weekend of summer, Peeta took her on a camping trip where they relaxed in the dense, woodsy air, laughing over stories of their childhood and reminiscing about her father over loaves of Peeta’s homemade bread. That was the last good cry Katniss had over her father , since then, she has become stronger. And even thinking of it now makes him want to do something special for her.

 

When he arrives back home, his arms full of lamb, plums, cheeder cheese and chocolate chips that is exactly what he sets out to do.

 

“Peeetaaa, we’re home,” he hears Katniss call as she walks through the front door.

 

“We bought the couch,” Finnick adds, as he drops something heavily onto the ground.

 

“Ohh smells good,” Katniss says, upon floating into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around him. Her braid brushes up against his neck, making him squirm as she looks to see what’s in the pot.

 

“You’re making lamb stew?!”

 

Peeta smiles as he continues to stir, “And cheese buns. They are baking right now.”

 

“Okay, what did you do?” Katniss pulls away, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

 

“Nothing! I honestly just want to make you dinner with all your favourites,” Peeta raises his hands in defense. “My way of saying thank you, for being a good friend.”

 

Still not buying his impromptu generosity, Katniss raises a brow, “Did you have a bad day or something?”

 

Peeta can feel his shoulders square and his body go rigid. Opening his mouth to speak, he closes it again once Finnick walks into the room. Shaking his head, he shuts off the heat from the element.

 

“Anyway, you’re going to love what we bought! It’s a suede wrap around with a reclining seat in the center,” she exclaims while talking with her hands. “And it’s so comfortable! I almost fell asleep right there in the store.”

 

“You went shopping voluntarily?” Peeta says in disbelief.

 

“Yeah, she did, I don’t know what you were saying early. Getting her to tag along was easy,” Finnick says, with a triumphant grin. “Even had a good time too, didn’t you, Katniss?”

 

Stepping back, she pivots to the cabinet behind her, gathering up enough tableware for three place settings.

 

With her head downcast, and her bangs shrouding her face Peeta barely catches the blush flushed across her cheeks as she runs out of the room.

 

“What did you do?” Peeta glowers at Finnick.

 

He shrugs. “She promised to keep me company  in exchange for keeping a secret of hers,” he says, opening the fridge and taking out a beer. “...and you’re making those cookies I like. What did I do to deserve this?”

 

“Katniss doesn’t have secrets. She’s an open book,” Peeta says, ignoring his friend while sliding the cheese buns out of the oven. “So how’d you get her to go shopping?”

 

Peeta can feel Finnick’s eyes sweep over him while moving each bun individually onto a plate.

 

“She’s got one,” he says quietly as he picks up the dish of cheese buns. “You shouldn’t feel bad about it though; sometimes… even the closest of friends can miss the smallest details.”

 

As he leaves the room, Peeta watches Katniss’ face light up when Finnick places the bread down onto the table.  What about her is he missing? What didn’t he know?

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Relinquishing his bed for rest of the night, after a heated battle of rock paper scissors, Peeta enjoys his last few hours in the pale yellow loveseat, nibbling on the soft cookies one at a time while his mind runs in circles around itself.

 

What is Katniss Everdeen hiding from him?

 

What is there to hide from him is a better question. They have been friends since they were five. Back then, she was the sullen girl who sat at the back of the classroom breaking pencils just trying to write her name. Peeta knows everything there is about Katniss, from her expressions, to her walk, to which four note melody she hums as she does what chore.

 

Peeta knows her better than the back of his own hand; what detail could he possibly be missing?

 

He does not notice the dip in the couch or Katniss’ presence until he can feel her hot breath in his ear as she blows into it. Jumping, the plate of cookies fall out of his hands and onto the floor to Katniss’ horror.

 

“Five second rule,” Peeta grins, cheekily as he picks up a cookie off the carpet and takes a bite. “Though, there are more in the kitchen that I stashed away for Finnick. Just don’t let him catch you taking from it,” he adds, picking up the rest of the fallen baked goods. Katniss’ expression, however, does not brighten with relief, but  instead remains wary and sombre.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, his heart drumming loudly in his ears, “Are you not feeling well? Do you want some tea?”

 

Katniss shakes her head, “I’m feeling okay.”

 

“Did you have a bad day, then?”

 

She shakes her head again. “Shopping with Finnick was really enjoyable. It’s just…um…”she mumbles, playing with the tip of her braid. “…well…it could just be because of his nose but when I accidentally woke him up this morning … he looked like he was going to cry.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah um…please don’t tell him I’ve told you, I promised to keep it between us.”

  
“I won’t tell him.”

 

Katniss sighs in relief, but her hands do not let go of the end of her braid.

 

“Was there something else?” Peeta inquires with a raised brow.   
  
Her gray eyes flicker up to his before they lower back to her hands.

 

“Katniss...” Peeta says more firmly than he intended , his heart racing.

 

“Who’s ‘Cas’ ?” her voice drops to a whisper as she looks up at through her lashes.  Peeta can feel his heart slow to its normal pace.

 

“Cas? You mean as in Cashmere?”

 

“I don’t know. He said, ‘Cas, not now’, and then swatted me away.”

 

Peeta looks behind him at his shut bedroom door, his face falling in despair, then over Katniss’ shoulder at the moss green suitcase sitting by their front door.

 

“Were you with him when he grabbed his suitcase?” he asks, meeting Katniss’ worried gray eyes with his own concerned blue ones.

 

“No. I saw it in the back seat when he came to pick me up from work.”

 

Peeta nods, placing a kiss to her forehead while turning off the television set.

 

“Well? Who is she?” Katniss asks a final time. He can tell her patience is wearing thin.

 

Stopping mid step on his way to the kitchen, he looks back at her.

 

Peeta wished he had an answer for her, but even he only had a vague idea of who Cashmere is, maybe even was, to Finnick. His friend has always preferred to keep his relationships quiet. While in college, it took Peeta months before Finnick and Madge told him they were together. Now, with his rising popularity, where any publicity can be spun into bad publicity, he keeps an even tighter lid on his personal life.

 

“I don’t know anymore, Kat,” he says, his gaze focused on his bedroom door. “Just don’t press him on the issue, okay?”

 

“I’m not a child, Peeta. If he’s gonna stay with us, I might as well know why,” she spits. Lying down onto the couch with a yawn, Katniss pulls the Everdeen family quilt off the back of the loveseat over herself.

 

“You’re not honestly going to sleep here tonight are you?”

 

“Why not? I’ll plan out a schedule on who gets the beds when, and then I’ll send it to Cinna’s chart guy tomorrow,” Katniss yawns louder this time as she pulls her knees into her chest.

 

Peeta sighs. Leaving the plate on the counter, he scoops his best friend up and attempts to carry her to her room, but she squirms and struggles in his grasp. “No, Peeta, take the bed really. You’re too small for the couch. Plus, you have work tomorrow I don’t want you going all sore.”

 

“Katniss,” he says sternly, but her expression remains taut in her stubbornness. Winning an argument with her has never been easy. “Let’s compromise. Your bed is big enough to fit two people; we can share it.”

 

Her face turns the same shade of red as it did last night at the reception.

 

“I’m okay with that,” she mumbles into his chest. “Try not to kick me though, okay?”

 

“Me? Kick you?” Peeta snorts, carrying her into the bedroom and dumping her onto the bed. “Get your facts straight. I’m usually the one who ends up with bruises all over my calves.”

 

She begins to wriggle beneath his hands as he tickles her below her rib cage.

 

“Oh my god Peeta, stop,” she huffs, trying to catch her breath.

 

“Say you won’t kick me,” he breathes in her ear, making her squirm. But her lips stay pressed together. “C’mon Katniss, just say it.”

 

“Alright alright, I won’t kick you!” she agrees, taking a deep breath once Peeta removes his hands from her.

 

Falling beside her onto the mattress, Peeta weaves their fingers together and grips onto her hand tightly. “I had an awful day at work today.  A customer looked about ready to murder one of my co-workers then that same co-worker asked me to coffee only to have her boyfriend want to kill me.”

 

“Oh Peeta…”

 

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” he smiles. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Katniss. I love you, y’know.”

 

Peeta watches as her bright gray eyes grow wide. Then fall ever so slowly as something dawns on her. What is she thinking? What is she seeing? He can feel her fingers gently outline the edge of his jaw before sliding down his neck and resting on his chest.

 

“I love you too,” she says, her voice laced with something sad as she brushes a kiss to his cheek.

 

That night once Katniss is dead asleep, her legs nudging at Peeta’s calf, he remains awake staring at the ceiling, her words playing over and over in his head. The more he hears them, the more he begins to realize the heartbreak in her tone.  Peeta can feel his heart lurch as tears spring to his eyes.

 

After twenty years of friendship, she is beginning to grow out of them. Out of him.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The fresh summer air flittering through the open window wakes Peeta up the next morning. Katniss is not one to keep the window open, so she must have done it for him when she left for work.

 

Rising slowly, he runs a hand through his knotted hair with a groan. He just had to be born with curls, didn’t he?

 

With a yawn, he stretches out his body. The click of his bones cracking makes him wince; he really needs to start going to the gym again. However, that will have to wait. Sliding back down under the sheets, Peeta feels his eyes grow heavy again when Finnick’s voice booms through the door.

 

“You’re no fucking better. So I don’t wanna hear it, Cas!”

 

Bolting out of bed, Peeta swings open Katniss’ bedroom door to find Finnick pacing the living room briskly.

 

“No, I’m not coming back,” Finnick continues, tiredly. “Okay… I’ll go talk to them… Yeah, thanks,” he ends the conversation with a sigh. Slamming his phone onto the coffee table, Peeta watches as Finnick flops onto the couch and shoves a throw pillow over his face.

 

“Nothing says ‘Good Morning’ like yelling at someone over the phone,” Peeta says, peeling the pillow off his friend’s face. The green in Finnick’s eyes shine boldly against the bruising and crow’s feet.

 

“I know, right? Trumps the morning coffee,” Finnick laughs. “Speaking of which, would you make me one?”

 

“Yeah… no,” Peeta says, throwing the pillow into his friend’s lap. “Go down to The Hob and get a cup yourself.”

 

“Fine then,” he huffs dramatically, sitting upright. “I was going to spend my day waiting for the furniture guys but if you want me gone then I’ll go. Enjoy my vacation in peace.”

 

“You do that,” Peeta says, trying to keep a straight face only to end up doubled over in laughter alongside his friend.

 

“I’ve really missed you, Mellark,” Finnick sighs, patting his friend on the shoulder before gripping it tightly. “You’re exactly who I need right now.”

 

The genuine gratitude mixed in with the despair in his friend’s eyes makes Peeta close his gaping mouth. For the first time, he can see the full extent of the toll the situation was taking on Finnick. The added strain of becoming newly homeless is more than he can handle.

 

Wrapping his arms around Finnick, Peeta pulls him into an unsuspecting hug. He can feel his friend’s body tremble, making him squeeze tighter.

 

The heavy silence sits the air before the buzzing of Finnick’s cellphone fills it.

 

“You gonna answer it?” Peeta asks, pulling away.

 

Running a hand through his thick hair with a sigh, Finnick looks briefly at the caller ID before cancelling the call and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans. Lifting one of Peeta’s many baseball caps off the back door, he puts it on and  brings the brim down low.

 

“Two creams no sugar, right?” Finnick inquires as he shoves his wallet into the pocket of his hoodie.  

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Peeta says with a slight smile.  Offering him a half smile in return, Finnick leaves the apartment.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

By the time the movers come by with the beautiful, expensive, beige suede couch, it is late afternoon. Checking his watch profusely, Peeta dials Finnick’s number for a tenth time in the last four hours out of concern. The Hob is a hop, skip and a jump away from their building and Finnick is not the type to get lost, so where the hell is he?

 

“Ah, merde!” comes the silvery tone of an unfamiliar voice cursing in French. Standing with a large box in the middle of the foyer is a thin, young woman with long flowing dark brown hair. Her hands sift through the contents but by the knit of her eyebrows she seems to have picked up the wrong one.

 

“Excuse moi, mademoiselle, je peux vous aider?” Peeta asks softly, in an attempt to help, digging deep into his pool of unused conversational French to pull out his phrase of choice. The young woman’s head shoots up instantly, her flustered green eyes soften as the taut line of her lips quirks up in a smile.

 

“Ah, Je suis d'accord. Je pense que je l'ai dans mon appartement.”

 

Looking at her with a raised brow, Peeta smiles back at her warily. “Je ne sais pa.”

 

The woman giggles, closing the box and stretching out her hand.

 

“My apologies, I got so excited that someone else spoke French I just assumed you were fluent. I’m Annie. I moved in two days ago,” her small embarrassed smile widens a little, exposing her whitened teeth. Taking her hand, Peeta shakes it loosely as he finds himself look over her briefly. Finnick’s vague description of ‘pretty’ did not do this woman justice. She is beautiful in the way simplicity compliments a woman best.

 

“P-Peeta,” he stutters. “It’s nice to meet you, Annie.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Peeta,” she says, still smiling which causes his heart to flutter. “Which floor do you live on?”

 

“The twelfth floor, with my friend,” he replies, letting go of her hand. “I seem to have adopted another one, though.  He told me you gave him an icepack the other day. I have it, upstairs, I can give it back to you now, if you’d like.”

 

Annie’s face falls, “Oh. Don’t worry about that. Let him use it as long as he needs it. I hope he’s doing better, he looked terrible two nights ago.”

 

“He’s doing better, taking it slow,” Peeta found himself admitting. “He went out for a coffee run four hours ago, so knowing Finnick he probably has some energy by now.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Annie offers him another trusting smile. “Send him my regards.”

 

“Of course,” Peeta grins back, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check for any new messages. Still nothing. Where the hell was this man?

 

“Peeta,” Annie voice tinkles. Snapping out of his daze, that genuine smile of hers shines his way.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure?”

 

“After I bring down the right box and your delivery guys finish dropping off your furniture, do you want to grab some dinner?” she asks, her voice dropping out on the last few words. “I’ve just moved into the Capitol and I’d really like to get to know the people here.  So far, you are the friendliest person I’ve met.”

 

Peeta can feel his heart flutter. The last girl to ask him out on a dinner date had been Katniss, but that had been more of a meal between friends than a date. Grabbing sandwiches from The Hob then eating them by the lake was just something they did, even if there was a picnic blanket and wine. They were friends. Who happened to go on pseduo-romantic dinners together.

 

Though, it is about time he had a real romantic dinner.

 

“I’d love to,” he says, courageously, as the smile that stretches across his face crawls high into his cheeks. “How about I give you my number and you give me a call when you’re ready. I’ll come grab you on the eighth floor, show you around town, and you can pick the restaurant.”

 

Annie’s face brightens as she laughs loudly. Feeling instantly self-conscious that he said something wrong, Peeta can sense his face growing warm.

 

“I live on the fourth floor, actually,” trickles of her laughter seep through her words.

 

His face turns a deeper shade of red. “I-I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to assume. I just thought with one of our tenants passing not long ago, you took his place.”

 

“Don’t worry, it makes sense,” she reassures, heading towards the elevator. Peeta’s feet carry him towards the elevator as well, riding the same carrel up to his own floor.

 

“You’re really cute when you blush, you know,” Annie mentions as she watches the numbers above the doors flash.

 

Peeta’s face is a darker shade of scarlet once the elevator dings as they reach the fourth floor. Following her like a lost puppy, she takes him right to the front door of her place, four-zero-seven-zero.

 

“When you’re done, just come knock on my door,” Annie says, turning back to him and perching on her toes. “I’m really looking forward to our evening so don’t keep me waiting,” she teases. Peeta nods, vigorously, as she leans up to place a kiss on his heated cheek.

 

Watching her sashay into her apartment, Peeta rushes back over to the elevator. The doors could not close fast enough. Keeping her waiting is definitely not something he will be doing.

 

Clad in his best casual wear, Peeta knocks on Annie’s door at quarter after six. Answering the door without delay, his jaw drops. The black and white summer dress from earlier today went back into her closet as a royal blue cocktail dress came out, hugging her in all the right places.

 

“Ready to go?” she says with a sexy smile. Offering her his arm, Annie loops hers through his as he escorts her to the elevator.

 

Walking out of the carrel and onto the first floor, Peeta nearly runs right into Katniss but Annie pulls him back just in time.

 

They stare up at each other, both startled. The shock falls away on Katniss’ face quickly as she looks over at Annie with a scowl.

 

“Who are you?” Katniss asks, not bothering to hide her discontent.

 

“Annie Cresta, I moved in upstairs on the fourth floor,” she says, unlooping her arm from Peeta’s and extending it to Katniss.

 

Katniss does not shake Annie’s hand, she only stares at it with hard gray eyes before looking up at Peeta.

 

“Where are you two off to?”

 

“Dinner. Annie’s choice, my treat,” Peeta says slowly, watching Katniss’ hard resolve soften.

 

“I-Is this a date?” she asks, breaking eye contact and looking down at her hands that wring around the strap of her purse.  

 

Exchanging a glance with Annie, she squeezes his hand.

 

“Yes,” Peeta says, happily, squeezing her hand back.

 

“Alright then,” Katniss mumbles under her breath, pushing past them, “I’ll see you when you get back then.”

 

“There are leftovers from yesterday and I’m working the night shift, so no sharing tonight,” he says with a smile. However, the smile he expects to get in reply does not appear. Instead Katniss nods curtly, her bangs covering her face as the heavy metal doors close around her.

  
The reflective walls of the metal casing and the security guard on the other side of the camera are the only ones that watch Katniss wipe away her stinging tears. Damn Peeta, damn that new girl. Why the hell did she have to go and fall in love anyway?

 

 

* * *

 


End file.
